


The Spider Behind The Mask

by marvel_middleearth



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Hurt Peter Parker, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Worried Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-10-14 07:09:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17503958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvel_middleearth/pseuds/marvel_middleearth
Summary: Usually, you don't expect to find Spider-Man in a Queens parking lot at 10:30 at night.Then again, usually you don't expect to find Spider-Man bleeding from a bullet in his stomach, either.It's up to MJ to do something about it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!!  
> This is my first fanfiction posted on Archive of Our Own and I'm so excited to share my work with you all!!  
> I really hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think or leave ideas/prompts/critique in the comments section if you have time.  
> Enjoy!!

The NYC skyline had never looked so inviting, Peter thought. 

He was sitting on the roof of his apartment building in his suit, his school books piled around him. This week was exam week at Midtown High and Peter was stressing out. Even though he'd quit the school band and the chess club - he'd quit basically everything except the decathlon team - he was still as busy as ever. On top of regular homework and intense study, he had patrol every night and the Stark 'internship' on the weekends and once a week after school. Between everything going on in his life, he was struggling to set his priorities straight.

The wail of a siren interrupted his thoughts, startling him. "Karen?" he asked, alarmed.

"Car robbery on 111th Street. The police are two minutes out," the AI reported calmly. 

Peter forced himself to focus back on his English revision, his nerves still sky-rocketing. Studying and patrolling were proving to be more of a headache than he wanted. How could he save civilians yet still get good grades? He'd messed up in his last exam and he really didn't want to fail this one. He wanted to prove to Tony that he was smart. He wanted to prove himself worthy of being his intern. Because if he didn't get good grades, what then? Maybe Tony would replace him. Maybe he'd just go back to being nobody Peter Parker.

"Your heart rate is unusually high, Peter," Karen reported. "I am also detecting high levels of anxiety and stress, bu strangely no physical harm. Are you in any immediate danger?"

"What? No!" Peter blustered. "I'm just worried about my exams."

"My readings also indicate you have not been getting enough sleep lately. Mr Stark has programmed me to send him an alert if your lack of sleep exceeds twenty-four hours. This is known as the Goodnight Peter Protocol."

"What?!"

"Your current lack of sleep, stress and anxiety levels, and high heart rate have led me to conclude you are currently in distress. If your readings stay this high for more than five minutes I am programmed to alert Mr Stark. Unless you would like to contact him yourself first?"

"What? No! No, just - just stop it, Karen!" Peter frowned.

Karen went quiet. Peter could practically hear her processors whirring. "I'm not sure I understand, Peter. Are you asking me to deactivate vital readings temporarily?"

"Uhh...yes?" Peter said cautiously.

Karen sounded almost uncertain, if AIs could sound uncertain. "Are you sure? Mr Stark may not be pleased with this request."

"If it'll give me a moment of peace and quiet, I'm sure," Peter grumbled. 

"As you wish, Peter. Vital readings deactivated." Karen fell silent again.

Peter let out a sigh of relief. "Back to studying, I guess." He put his head down and tried to focus on poetry analysis techniques.

Only minutes later his head jerked up as Karen spoke in his ears. "Sorry to disturb you, Peter. My sensors indicate there is a man held at gunpoint two streets away. Would you like me to give you the complete coordinates?"

Peter leapt to his feet, abandoning his Spanish revision. "Tell me where, Karen. I'm on it."

He leapt off the roof, feeling the familiar sense of weightlessness and then the gentle yank as his webs caught him and flung him forwards. The breeze rushed past him, the sounds of the city filling his ears.

He quickly found his way to the crime. A woman with spiky blonde hair was aiming a gun at a greasy-haired man, whose nervous sweating really wasn't helping his hair situation. Peter dropped down behind the woman and webbed the gun out of her hand. "C'mon, guys, I'm sure we can settle this without firearms," he said cheerfully.

The woman whipped around. "Spider-Man!"

"Yup, it's me." Peter took a step forwards. "I'd offer to take a selfie cause you seem like such a fan, but I'm gonna have to hand you over to the police first."

"You don't understand," the woman said, her voice desperate. "He owes me money. A  _lot_ of money. And I need it. Now."

"Shoulda just got a loan," Peter shrugged. 

The woman charged at the man in an attempt to grab him, her face a snarl of anger, but Peter shot a web in her direction and suddenly she was pinned to the wall. "I'm sorry I had to do this, but you shouldn't have aimed a gun at him."

He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see the man running away. Peter raised an eyebrow. "Uhhh....?"

He suddenly noticed that the gun was gone, and the dots connected themselves in his mind. "Seriously, man?! I save your butt and you steal the gun when I'm not looking?"

"I'll catch you later," he said to the woman, before racing off after the greasy man. He could feel a tingle racing up and down his arms: his Spidey-sense, as he'd dubbed it. If he didn't stop this guy, something bad was gonna happen.

Peter followed the guy through the streets. Just as he was about to catch up with him, the guy gave him the slip, hurrying off down a side alley. Peter spun around and raced down the alley after him.

They burst out into a somewhat-open space: a deserted parking lot out the back of a dingy supermarket. There was a train line nearby - Peter could hear the rattling of wheels on the track. Then again, his hearing was so acute the train could have been a mile away and  he'd still have heard it.

Peter let himself feel a little more confident. He could easily outrun this guy, especially in an open space like this.

The greasy-haired guy seemed to realise this too, because he sped up and fired over his shoulder for good measure. Peter dodged out of the way of the bullet and doubled his speed. If the man was desperate enough to use the gun, Peter was in trouble.

"Karen, sticky web!" he ordered. Twin jets of web shot from his wrists, but the unevenness of the man's running meant that the web only clipped his foot, causing him to stumble. He aimed over his shoulder and the gun went off. 

It was like being hit by...well, a bullet. His entire body shuddered with the impact of the bullet tearing into his abdomen. Peter stumbled, nearly tripping as pain rocketed through him. He let out a gasp, bit his lip and continued running. If he could catch this guy before the adrenaline wore off, he could put him behind bars and then do something about the fact that he'd just been  _shot._

The further he half-limped, half-ran across the parking lot, the more Peter realised how stupid his plan was. The guy had realised his shot had made contact and he'd doubled his pace, now charged with running off with a gun and shooting Spider-Man on top of his money debts. Pain lanced through Peter with every step, a burning sensation that took his breath away with the agony. By the time the man had left the parking lot Peter was barely three-quarters of the way across, the adrenaline and his energy fading fast. He stumbled to a stop, panting, and pressed one hand to his side. It was wet, and he could feel something pouring between his fingers.

When he raised his hand to the dim, flickering lamplight, it was red with blood.

Peter was beginning to feel light-headed, and the metallic tang of blood only made him more nauseous. He sank to the ground with his back against a lamp post, his side throbbing in agony. Bracing himself, knowing he had to stop the bleeding, he lifted his hand to his side and shakily pressed the web shooters. 

Webs shot out and into the wound. Peter couldn't stop a howl of pain at the intensity of the pain that racked his body as the webs slammed into his side. At least the bleeding had slowed, though.

_I_ _'m_ _just gonna rest here,_ he promised himself.  _Karen will realise something's wrong and Mr Stark will come and find me._

Just before he was consumed by darkness, he remembered:

_I told Karen to turn my vital readings off._

_Mr Stark won't even realise that I'm hurt._


	2. An (Almost) Empty Parking Lot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MJ to the rescue!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had most of this story planned out already so I went straight ahead and typed up this chapter immediately after posting the first one.  
> Enjoy!

Michelle was walking through downtown Queens, her earphones in, listening to  _"24K Magic"_ by Bruno Mars. She'd been at her mom's house in Queens and now she was walking to the station to catch the train back to her dad's house. Her mom had suggested she stay the night - Queens wasn't the most friendly place at ten-thirty at night - but Michelle had an assignment to finish and it was on her laptop at her dad's. So here she was in the middle of the night, walking through the dark streets with Bruno Mars blasting in her ears.

But even Bruno Mars wasn't loud enough to drown out the unmistakable sound of a gunshot.

Michelle stopped dead and subtly turned her music down so she could hear her surroundings better. There was the sound of running feet in the distance except for a faint, almos incoherent gasp of pain.

Despite her mind screaming at her to turn and run the opposite way, Michelle found her feet taking her towards the sound. Her insatiable curiosity and stubbornness, which had got her into trouble  _many_ times before, was kicking in now and she was powerless to resist.

She really hoped her dad didn't get mad at her for coming home late.

Michelle suddenly jumped in fright as a howl of pain rang out. Her pace quickened and she crept around the side of an empty supermarket in the direction of the sound. Stretching out in front of her was an empty parking lot - except that it wasn't quite as empty as she'd thought.

Someone was slumped against the ground in the middle of the carpark, half-leaning against a darkened lamp post. Even in the darkness, Michelle could see unmistakable red and blue.

Spider-Man.

She'd literally just found Spider-Man in a Queens parking lot.

Michelle walked closer tentatively. "Umm, hey?" she called, pulling her earphones out of her ears. "Spider-Man? Man-Spider? Whatever your name is?"

He didn't stir and Michelle frowned. "Hey? Are you..." she trailed off as she neared him.

He was lying in a pool of blood.

She debated over what to do. Call the police? The ambulance? Eventually she settled for crouching down beside him (her? What if Spider-Man was a girl?) and shaking his (or her) shoulder gently. "Hey. Wake up."

The familiar white eyes of the mask opened slowly. "Wha'?" a voice slurred, full of pain. Definitely a guy, then. A slightly high-pitched guy, but a guy nonetheless. "Where am I?"

"You're in a parking lot in Queens," Michelle told him. "You were shot."

Spider-Man squinted up at her. "MJ?" he muttered.

Michelle was taken aback. "How do you know my name?" she demanded.

Spider-Man didn't seem to hear her. He shakily pressed his hands to his injured side, blood seeping between his fingers. "I thought I webbed it closed," he mumbled. He accidentally prodded himself too hard and let out a gasp of pain. "I'm gonna be in so much trouble."

"You  _are_ in so much trouble." Michelle took out her phone. "I'm gonna call the ambulance, okay? You need to go to hospital."

Spider-Man batted her hand away, still surprisingly strong for someone bleeding all over the ground. "No," he rasped. "No ambulance."

"Dude, you've been shot," Michelle pointed out dryly. "What do you want me to do, leave you here to bleed all over the parking lot?"

"Please...don't leave. Please." He grabbed her hand tightly, pleadingly. "I need...to call Mr Stark."

"Are you sure calling Tony Stark at ten-thirty-five at night is a good idea?" Michelle asked doubtfully.

Spider-Man nodded painfully. "He should...have known a-already. But I turned the s-system off."

Spider-Man's breathing was coming in choked gasps as he fought for air, fought for consciousness. "Hard...to breathe," he slurred.

"Yeah, no wonder. You're wearing a mask." Michelle moved her hand to pull up his mask.

Spider-Man's hand flew up to grip the edge of his mask, his eyes narrowed. "What...are you doing?" he panted.

"You need to take it off. It's not helping." Michelle softened her tone. "I won't tell anyone. I won't even look, if you don't want me to."

Spider-Man's chest heaved as he let out a long breath. "N-no, it's okay. You deserve to know." With one shaky hand he gripped the top of his mask and pulled it off. 

Those eyes. That hair. That mouth. That nose. 

That  _face._ She knew that face.

Because that was the face of her best friend. 

_**Peter Parker is Spider-Man??!!!** _

Michelle was stunned. But even as she sat there taking it all in, her mind was taking the puzzle pieces and fitting them all together.  _Running off during decathlon practice. Turning up with unexplained injuries. Skipping school. Going missing on field trips._ She tried to rearrange her face into an unimpressed expression. "I hope this isn't your excuse for missing decathlon practice. It's a pretty lame excuse."

Peter let out a wheezy laugh. "Sorry about that." He broke off with a cough, blood flecking his lips, which were turning an alarming shade of blue. There were tear tracks down his face and Michelle felt shocked. Peter? Crying? She couldn't imagine the pain he must be in right now.

MJ snapped into action. "We need to call Mr Stark, now. You need to tell me his number."

"Karen, give MJ full access to c-communications," Peter ordered, his voice faltering. "A-and call Mr Stark. Put him on s-speaker so MJ can hear, but not too loud, okay?"

"Contacting Mr Stark," a female voice spoke out of nowhere, making Michelle jump. She guessed it must be Peter's AI system.

There was a whirring sound, then Tony Stark's voice spoke. "Kid? Why are you calling me at nearly eleven at night? And why am I suddenly not getting vital readings? Did you turn them off?"

"Mr S-Stark," Peter coughed, breathing heavily. Michelle's knees were wet from kneeling in blood, but she tried to ignore it as she took over the call. Peter was clearly in no state to talk.

"Mr Stark? This is Michelle Jones from Midtown High School. I'm currently sitting in an empty parking lot in Queens next to Peter Parker. He's been shot and he's stupidly refusing to go to hospital, so you'd better he t your iron-clad butt down here before my best friend bleeds all over the car park or I swear I'll never buy a Stark phone again." She added to Karen, "I'm done. Hang up."

The call ended and there was a moment of silence. Then Peter burst out laughing, still wincing in pain but with a genuine grin on his face. "I've never anyone...talk to Mr Stark...like that before," he wheezed. "Can you imagine the look...on his face?"

Michelle cracked a small smile. "Think he'll be mad?"

"Probably just shocked...and worried. He f-freaks out whenever I get hurt. Once I cut my finger and I swear...he was about to c-call the ambulance." Peter was putting on a brave face, but Michelle could tell he was in agony. His eyes were clouded with pain and were unfocused, staring at everything and nothing at once. 

Awkwardly, Michelle moved closer to him, putting one hand on his shoulder. Normally she hated physical contact but Peter was in pain, rapidly losing his brave exterior. He needed a friend.

"Do you remember the time Ned brought his Lego Darth Vader minifigure to school?" Michelle said quietly. "He put it in your hood and when you flipped your hoodie up, Darth Vader fell down your shirt and scared the heck out of you."

Peter let out a breathy laugh. He seemed to muster his strength, then said, almost normally, "Do you remember the first decathlon meeting we had with you as team captain? I ran off in the middle of it and you asked me, 'What are you hiding, Peter?' Well, this is it." He shrugged weakly.

He paused for breath, his chest heaving. "You said I was your best friend. Just then, to Mr Stark."

"Yeah," Michelle replied.

"So am I?"

"What?"

"Am I your best friend?"

"Of course, you dork."

They lapsed in a companionable silence. "I was joking, you know," Michelle said quietly, after a while.

Peter shifted his head to stare up at her with wide brown eyes. There were fresh tears of pain shimmering in their depths. "What?"

"I was joking when I said this was a lame excuse for missing decathlon practice." Michelle hesitated. "You're awesome. I mean, this is awesome. What you do. You're a hero."

"A hero with a bullet in his stomach," Peter joked weakly. His breaths were becoming more and more ragged. MJ felt sick at the amount of blood still trickling from the gaping wound in his side.

There was a roar of jet thrusters and the Iron Man suit touched down only metres away. Michelle couldn't decide whether to cheer or yell at him so she settled for staying silent, watching as he strode over, his faceplate lifting up to reveal his worried and panicked expression.

Tony crouched down beside Peter. "What the heck did you do, kid? Why did you turn your readings off? I gotta get you back to the compound."

Peter let out a whimper. "It hurts, Mr Stark." The pain in his voice was so strong it sent shivers of fear down Michelle's spine.

"I know, kid. I'm sorry." Tony carefully slid his arms beneath Peter lifted him, cradling the limp boy against his chest. "You're gonna be alright."

Tony glanced at MJ. "You're Michelle? I'll send a car to pick you up." Without a second glance he rocketed away into the sky, Peter clutched tightly in his armour-clad arms.


	3. Chapter 3

Michelle was left standing in the middle of an empty parking lot, surrounded by blood, watching the tiny figure of Iron Man streaking away into the sky.

While she was waiting for Stark's car, she called her dad, telling him that she was  staying over at a friend's house and would see him the next day after school. He wished her a good night, then hung up. Michelle felt surprisingly lonely. Normally she didn't mind being alone, but she felt tired and drained. Seeing Peter in so much pain had scared her.

Ten minutes later a black car drove into the parking lot and pulled up in front of her. A slightly grumpy-looking man rolled the window down. "Are you Michelle Jones?" he asked. "Tony Stark sent me to pick you up and bring you to Stark Tower."

Michelle crossed her arms. "How do I know you aren't trying to kidnap me?" She knew perfectly well that he wasn't, but she was on edge and she was tired and she couldn't resist winding him up.

The driver looked exasperated. "What, you want to see my license?"

"Yeah, I do," Michelle said coolly. "I'd like to know whether your passenger endorsement commercial driver's license is still up to date and in accordance with the NYC Department of Motor Vehicle's policies." She smirked.

"Just get in the car, kid," the driver said, annoyed but clearly used to teenage sass.

Michelle smirked and climbed into the back of the car. She stayed quiet for the journey to Stark Tower, and when they arrived she practically leapt out of the car in her haste.

She followed the grumpy chaffeur through the building to a floor that smelt like bleach and resembled a small-scale hospital. Nurses rushed around, machines beeped, and somewhere in the distance there was the soft sound of people talking. The chaffeur gestured for Michelle to sit down in one of the waiting chairs, then left.

Michelle leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, flicking her curly brown fringe half over her face. She tried to look casual, but she was worried about Peter. She knew she looked a mess - the knees of her olive green jeans were soaked with blood, her blue Midtown High jumper patterned with Peter's bloody handprints - but there wasn't much she could do about it. So she just sat and waited.

She must have sat there for over an hour. Occasionally nurses stopped to ask her if she was alright, if she needed anything, or to reassure her. Eventually she heard a new set of footsteps on the tiled floor, and there was something about them that made her look up. Tony Stark was walking towards her: no Iron Man suit, just jeans and a t-shirt, more casual than she'd ever seen him. He sat down awkwardly in the chair beside her.  "He's gonna be okay," he said, after a while.

Michelle didn't meet his eyes, but she relaxed a little. "Good. I didn't want to lose the dork to a stupid bullet wound."

"Michelle." Michelle finally looked up and saw Tony's brown eyes staring determinedly into hers. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For keeping him awake. For keeping him alive." Tony shrugged. "Listen, I'm terrible at this heartfelt emotional stuff." (Michelle sympathized - she hated giving soppy speeches.) "But seriously, thank you. I think we both know how special that kid is - not just as Spider-Man, saving hundreds of lives, but as Peter Parker, funny and nerdy and kind. If we lost him..." Tony trailed off. "That doesn't bear thinking about. So thank you, Michelle."

"MJ," she corrected him.

"What?" He looked at her, bewildered.

"My friends call me MJ," Michelle said simply, giving him a half-smile.

Tony looked at her, and there was approval in his gaze, almost - but not quite - like when he looked at Peter. He gestured over his shoulder. "Wanna see him? The doctors finished operating."

Michelle stood up and followed Tony. Peter was lying asleep in a white-sheeted bed in a white-walled room, seeming smaller than Michelle had ever seen him. His skin was pale, his brown hair falling softly across his forehead. One hand lay beside him and the other lay on his chest, his fingers resring on the bandages wrapped around his abdomen. The blood had been cleaned away and he looked surprisingly peaceful.

Michelle took a seat gingerly on one of the chairs. She didn't want to look like a creep, so instead of staring anxiously at Peter like she desperately wanted to, she glanced around the room at the variety of machines beeping, whirring and buzzing. Eventually her eyes found their way back to Peter's chest, rising and falling softly with every breath. 

Michelle didn't know how long she sat there in silence. Tony alternated between pacing the room, leaning against the door frame and sitting in the chair beside MJ. Peter didn't stir.

The door flew open suddenly and May Parker hurried in. She brought her hand to her mouth in horror at the sight of her nephew. "Oh my God," she whispered.

She spotted Michelle and didn't hesitate to seize her in an embrace. "Thank you. Thank you for finding him," she whispered, her voice hitching with a sob.

Michelle tried not to squirm. "He was pretty hard to miss," she replied, shrugging off the gratitude gently.

"He's waking up," Tony said suddenly, and they all turned to face the bed.

Peter's eyes fluttered open. He blinked up at them blurrily, looking bewildered. "What are you guys doing here?" he muttered.

"You were shot, genius. Remember?" Michelle teased.

Peter's eyes widened in shock. "The parking lot..." He glanced shyly at Michelle. "You saved me."

Michelle shrugged. "Not really."

Peter suddenly bolted upright. "My Spanish notes! I left them on the roof!"

"Calm down, genius. I'm sure they'll be there when you get back." Michelle almost laughed at the guilty look on Peter's face.

May was glancing between Michelle and Peter with an amused look on her face. "We'll give you two a moment," she said with a wink, grabbing Tony's arm and hauling him out of the room.

There was an awkward silence. "So...you know now," Peter said. "About..."

Michelle raised an eyebrow at him. "Your alter ego? Yeah, I do, spider-boy."

Peter grinned. "I'm never gonna hear the end of this, am I?"

"Nope." Michelle perched on the side of his bed. "Does Ned know?"

"Yeah, Ned knows," Peter admitted.

Michelle pretended to be annoyed. "I'm offended. You told  _Ned_ and you  _didn't_ tell  _me_?"

"It was an accident!" Peter protested. "He wasn't supposed to know!"

"Was I?" Michelle asked.

"I didn't want anyone to know," Peter admitted. "The more people who know, the more danger they're in. The more danger I'm in of losing the people I love."

"I understand." Michelle truly understood his reasoning. "I promise I won't tell anyone."

"Thanks," Peter said gratefully, beginning to look tired again. "And thanks for saving me."

"I didn't save you, you loser," Michelle said again.

Peter grabbed her hand, startling her. "But you did. You really did. And I'm really grateful."

"All in a day's work," Michelle said, and cracked a smile.

"You're the best, MJ," Peter murmured, his eyes closing as he fell asleep again.

Five minutes later, Michelle realised she was still holding his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end of this fanfic!
> 
> Thank you to everyone who stumbles across this fanfic and takes the time to read it, you guys are amazing.
> 
> Please leave a message in the comments section if you have time.
> 
> Until next time...seeya!

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, thanks for reading!


End file.
